


You Just Burn

by Ahigheroctave



Category: Glee
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-01
Updated: 2012-11-01
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:27:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahigheroctave/pseuds/Ahigheroctave
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Happiness was never yours to hold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Just Burn

What does it matter? You wonder, standing in the choir room after Nationals. After losing, again. Happiness is a boy with a Mohawk whispering in your ear, all those lost promises. You can still hear them in your ears at night. _Trust me. We could be a family. This isn’t just another hook-up to me. Especially now._ Happiness is fist bumping with a rotund black girl and giggling in her bed with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. Happiness is a warm baby that will inevitably be taken away from you by a woman who didn’t love her first child enough. Happiness was never yours to hold.  
  
Happiness is for girls like Brittany, who sits on Artie’s lap on his stupid broken legs. Happiness is for girls like Rachel, who walks in five minutes late and pulling Finn behind her. Happiness is for girls like Tina, who lay against the shoulder of a smiling boyfriend as Mr. Schuester talks. Happiness is for real girls, not the ones made of china who shatter at a moment’s notice.  
  
You just burn.  
  
You burn with anger, as Puck doesn’t even look at you despite the fact that you’re so close to him you could brush his hand and call it an accident. You burn with jealousy, as Finn buries his big clumsy nose in Rachel’s hair. You burn with hurt, as Mercedes refers to Tina as her best friend.  
  
But then, all of the sudden you feel a hand in yours.  
  
You look at Santana, who keeps her head firmly placed in the direction of Brittany and Artie. Brittany is dancing around his chair, her blond hair flying around loose and wavy. _Like cool epilepsy._ And you can here the thoughts in the Latina girl’s head, the same sort you’ve been having ( _It just said I can’t. They know that you’re not being yourself. Clearly you don’t love yourself as much as I do, or you’d put this shirt on and you’d dance with me_ ).  
  
And you just burn, but for once, it’s not alone.


End file.
